


Sleep on the Floor

by Somar_Sword



Category: Queen (Band), roger taylor (queen) - Fandom
Genre: 1976, Abuse, America tour, F/M, Forgive Me, Past Abuse, Platonic relationship with the other boys, Running Away, Shitty writing lmao, Slow Burn, not entirely accurate, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somar_Sword/pseuds/Somar_Sword
Summary: A roadtrip with one of the greatest band to ever exist at the peak of their existence. A great adventure on it's own, but you wouldn't even be here had it not been for the help of a certain blonde drummer.
Relationships: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor/Reader, Roger Taylor/Reader, Roger Taylor/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	1. lady, this is the men's room

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! This is my first fanfic that I'm posting, please have mercy •-• I would appreciate the feedback so please don't hesitate to write :) ; I've also posted this on tumblr, if you're interested (faster updates there). My @ is somarsword
> 
> Oh also 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, Violence, Blood
> 
> wordcount: 1820

February 6, 1976 - New York

"Well, what do you say Y/n?" he asks, one knee still planted on the ground and holding out the small box containing the ring. This was not something you had ever expected to happen so soon. 

The once lively and buzzing restaurant was now engulfed in silence, only the occasional whispers remained. All eyes were now trained on you, anticipating your response in silent excitement. 

The smile on his face falters slightly as he waits for your response, worry ebbing his features, reminding you that you haven't responded yet. 

Simon, a sweet guy, someone you've been with for a little over 3 years now. Sure, you liked him, but this all seemed to happen too soon but you couldn't help and think to yourself, 𝐼'𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒. So reluctantly you nod, forcing a smile onto your face, albeit one that doesn't reach your eyes. 

Cheers and claps surround you as he slips the ring onto your finger but all the noise is drowned out by the deafening ringing in your ears. Your heart begins to beat rapidly against your chest as you suddenly feel an overwhelming feeling of dread wash over you. Leaving only one word to remain on your mind.

𝑁𝑂

Soon enough, everyone resumes their meals, leaving you to listen to Simon's rambling, something you used to see as adorable but now just made you feel icky. "So I was thinking of it and maybe for the wedding we could-", but his words pass through one ear and out the other. 

You stare at the plate set in front of you, absentmindedly pushing the food back and forth with the fork. What once looked so appetizing suddenly making you feel incredibly nauseous. 

"I'll just use the restroom. Be right back" is all you say before rushing to the toilet. You push the door open quickly, not making it much further inside before your breathing completely picks up. Grasping the edge of the counter you choke out weak sobs as your throat constricts. 

Just as you're sure you'll pass out, a man enters. His movements pause when he sees you, both surprise and confusion written on his face. He's quickly brought out of his daze, however, once he processes the state you're in. 

In one swift motion, he's by your side, holding onto your other free hand in an attempt to comfort you.

"Can you try to match my breathing love? Think you can handle that?" He speaks slowly, watching you closely, making sure you understand him. You nod.

"Okay. Breathe in" he takes a deep breath in. You do your best to copy it.

"And out" he exhales. 

••• -•- •• •--•

He repeats this for a couple minutes before your breathing returns to normal. You finally loosen your grip on his hands, pulling away. 

Well that was fucking embarrassing.

"Uh thanks for the help. I really appreciate it." You finally say to the blonde man. He nods in response, still staring at you.

"What are you doing in the lady's comfort room though?" at your question the man gives a quick chuckle. With eyebrows raised you look at him.

"Lady, this is the men's room" and sure enough, as you look around, you see the urinals lining the wall.

"Oh" is all you manage to say, your face flushing a deeper shade of red than you thought possible. Apparently, in your haste to escape, you managed to enter the wrong room.

Leaning back against the counter you stare down at your hands, your fingers grazing over the ring set on it. It gleams brightly, definitely not cheap.

Daring to break the silence, you finally speak. "Sorry for keeping you here so long. Your date must be waiting" you say, dropping your hands to your sides. 

You look up only to see the man's gaze on your ring as well, recognition in his eyes, as if finally realizing why you looked so familiar. He says nothing of the ring as he looks back at you. 

"Oh it's no worries love, I'm just here with my mates. I don't think those 3 wankers are worried anyway" He offers you a comforting smile, going to lean against the wall directly in front of you. 

"The Ritz is a bit pricy for a night out with the boys, don't you think?" you ask, letting out a small laugh.

"I guess it is, huh?" He says, letting out a small chuckle of his own, shaking his head. "Kinda lucky it's paid for by the record label"

"Record label?" You ask, confusion laced in your tone and eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah. We're uhm-" he scratches the back of his head, realizing he's said something he wasn't supposed to, "Well we're touring at the moment so all our meals are paid for." You nod in acknowledgement, choosing not to pry into it much further. 

Your gaze falls back to the ring on your finger, half expecting it to suddenly vanish and for you to wake up from this monstrosity of a night. 

"Hey look, I know you're going through something, and you don't have to talk about it." the man speaks up again, "But if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to just feel free to call me"

Looking up, you finally see him holding out what seems to be a business card. You reach for it, nodding meekly. 

"Thanks-" you start, before realizing you hadn't actually caught his name.

"Roger" he says.

"Right. Thanks Roger." You turn to your side a bit, stuffing his business card into your bra (a habit you should probably stop doing in front of people) right as the door opens. A man pauses by the entrance, and before you can look at him he starts speaking.

"What the hell is going on?" Simon growls, voice an octave lower than usual. You snap your head up, immediately looking at him. 

Everything happens so quickly that if you had blinked you would have missed it. He approaches both of you in quick strides before attaching his fist to the jaw of Roger. Your eyes shoot open in horror as Roger hunches over coughing, a bit of blood seeping out his mouth. 

Before you could properly react or make an apology to him you're roughly dragged away by Simon, leaving a surprised Roger behind.

••• -•- •• •--•

Simon drives all the way home, silently seething as he grips the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles go white. You cower slightly at the sight. In all your time together you've never known him to be violent, well physically at least, so this was new. 

All the way up to the driveway he says nothing, only gritting his teeth and breathing heavily as he replays the image he just saw however, once you were behind closed doors, it was a different story.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH THAT GUY IN THE TOILET?" He yells, causing you to flinch back at the sheer aggressiveness of his voice.

"Nothing. We weren't doi-" You begin but are cut of by his dark chuckle. 

"Then what the 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 were you doing in the men's comfort room?" His voice is deeper and threatening. You say nothing opting to stare at the floor. His stance was frightening. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑤𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚? 

"Answer me" He growls, voice dripping with rage. When he receives no response from you he gets more fueled up, grabbing a glass cup that was left on the dining table before hurling it towards you. It hits your shoulder with an aggressive 𝐭𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐜𝐤 before falling and shattering on the ground.

He approaches you causing you to backup into the wall. Trying to make yourself disappear you slide down, covering your face in fear. He scoffs at your weak attempt to escape his wrath and pulls you up roughly by your hair, picking up a shard of glass as he does so.

"𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐓" you're too encapsulated by fear to register the giant gash he was painting into your stomach, slicing the dress that clung to your body in the process. After a few moments with still no response, he releases his grip on your hair, causing you to collapse on the ground, blood beginning to pool under you.

"Should've known you were a fucking slut. Clean yourself up" is all he says before walking out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Scrambling to gather your breath, you force yourself to sit up. Your hand flies down to the cuts on your belly, applying pressure on it in hopes of stopping it from bleeding any. 

••• -•- •• •--•

You don't know how long you stay there on the floor, but it feels like hours. With as much strength as you can gather you trudge towards the kitchen, wetting a hand towel to clean up the cut. 

The wind howls outside, causing the front door to rattle. The rattling suddenly snaps you back to the reality that Simon could be back any moment. With shaky hands you quickly press a cut up piece of cloth towards the wound, taping it down haphazardly. 

Once done, you rush towards the bedroom to pack. You grab a duffel bag that was hung next to the door, zipping it open before crouching under the bed to retrieve the shoebox you've hidden under it. Drawing it out, you discard the lid and reach inside to pull out the small amount of money you had managed to save, along with the folder containing your birth certificate and such. You stuff it all into the bag, changing your, now ripped up, dress and grabbing a few articles of clothing on the way out. 

You make a beeline towards the front door, only stopping once your hand lay on the doorknob.

𝐴𝑚 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠? 

You glance behind you. Everything you thought you ever wanted stares right back at you. A house, a (supposedly) loving boyfriend turned fiancé, and a stable job. So why did it feel so wrong when he proposed last night?

Shaking your head at your own thoughts, you rip the ring off your finger and toss it on the floor before storming out into the dark and empty streets. 

••• -•- •• •--•

The sky is now a deep shade of blue, sun beginning to rise from a night's slumber. You've been walking for hours, figuring out what to do. With barely any money on you, you had nowhere to go, so unless you could manage to walk all the way to the next state, you were dead. You could barely afford to eat. Why had you ever agreed to share a bank account with him? How could you have been so stupid as to not have kept more for yourself? Without Simon's signature on the withdrawal slip they wouldn't give you even a penny of your hard work.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑟𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑑.


	2. please Beach, don't be a bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets the boys... kinda. Bye New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again :> So I should probably warn you ahead that this story isn't as realistic as other fanfics. The boys are currently on their 1976 tour so that's the route we follow in terms of location but not much else. Let's just pretend you (the reader) haven't heard of the band which is why you aren't entirely psyched when you met them. Uh yeah... guess that's most of it? Oh also, sorry for being pretty inconsistent about Rog's attitude towards you. I just felt it would be more appropriate this way. 
> 
> Enjoy the read :)
> 
> WARNING: none. Cursing?
> 
> word count: 1.2k words

February 8, 1976 - New York 

You had spent the whole day yesterday attempting to walk as far as you could, but no matter how much your legs hurt from how hard you'd pushed yourself, you couldn't make it even a fraction out of this hellhole. So here you were, now sitting outside a gas station eating a sad excuse of a meal. 

You're all out of options. You had lost almost all contact with your friends after they had moved to other states, and the ones who were in New York were Simon's friends first. Your mom wouldn't understand if you told her, she never really loved you anyway, she only loved the idea of having someone to show off. If you were to tell her this she'd shun you and force you back into the arms of your 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 fiancé. 

You had no one. Not a single person to run to.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑'𝑣𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡.

Shaking your head, you stand and walk over to the payphone situated next to the entrance of the convenience shop. 

Only option. Last hope.

The line rings for about 2 minutes before he finally picks up. 

"Hello?" his voice slightly raspier than normal. 

"Hey Roger, it's uh... well actually you never caught my name, but it's Y/n. The girl from the Ritz the other night" you hear shuffling on the other line. 

"Oh yeah, right. Are you alright?" he asks groggily, concern laced in his voice.

"I've been better" you say, letting out a small laugh, "Actually that's why I was calling, are you still in New York?" 

"Yeah" he takes a deep breath in "It's our last day here actually"

"Oh. Are you still up for a chat?" you ask him hesitantly.

"We're talking now aren't we?" he says, obviously confused.

"Well yeah. I just-" you pause, closing your eyes and sighing deeply before continuing, "I need to ask you a favor and I need to ask it in person" 

The line goes silent, and for a second you believe you may have lost you last chance of escaping. You hear him let out a slightly irritated breathe before reluctantly responding.

"Okay. 30 minutes at the coffee shop at 5th Ave." is all he says before dropping the phone call. 

••• -•- •• •--•

"Hey, thanks for meeting me" you say as Roger approaches the table. He nods in response, taking a seat opposite you. 

"So what is it you wanted to ask?" He asks once he's settled in. 

"You mentioned you were on tour the other night..." you trail off and glance up at him, watching him closely. He nods for you to continue. "Well I was hoping I could catch a ride to the next state."

His eyebrows furrow, both confusion and disbelief written on his face.

"I barely know you" there's a hint of annoyance as he says so, shaking his head.

"Look I know it's a big deal for me to be asking this, but it's the only option I have left. Please. I'll even work for my spot there if that's what it takes. Just please. I need to get out of here." you beg and as he stares back at you his irritation slowly dissipates. 

••• -•- •• •--•

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" You hear someone ask as Roger enters the bus in search of his manager. 

"Where's Miami?" is all he says in response, ignoring the previous question thrown at him. 

"He's at the back. Are you gonna answer me or-" Roger pops his head out of the bus, quickly motioning for you to follow him, disregarding the other man's question again. 

As you step in the three men lounging inside turn their heads towards you before voicing their frustration at the blonde.

"So this is where you've been? Couldn't you have kept it in your pants 'til we reached Detroit?" 

"Do you always have to be shagging someone at every second?" 

Roger ignores the comments of the other men as you both make your way to the back. Once there, you find a man sat at the corner, a bunch of papers set next to him. 

"Jim" Roger begins, making the man turn his attention away from the documents and towards the both of you. He raises his brows, signalling Roger to carry on.

"Are there any openings left for the roadies or interns?" Roger asks. 

"I don't think so. Why?" He asks, glancing at you.

"This lady here doesn't have enough money to get out of state and was hoping to hitch a ride with us. She offered to work as compensation" You nod, agreeing to Roger's statement. You hastily grab the folder in your bag, handing it to the man. 

"I can help with finances, I have a degree in accountancy" You rush out, hoping to convince him. He scans the contents of the folder for a few seconds before closing it again. 

𝑁𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑜

"Please sir, I'll even scrub the toilets. Doesn't matter what job you give me, I'll do my best. I can't stay here. Please" you beg. In your 24 years on earth, never had you ever thought you'd be begging 2 strangers to take you with them. 

The man chuckles slightly at your sudden outburst, shaking his head in amusement. 

"You don't have to do any of that sort, I've been struggling with organizing the finances so you'll come in handy." he hands back your folder, a smile gracing his face.

••• -•- •• •--•

It's been a couple of hours since you've watched the tall buildings you've grown up with shrink, slowly vanishing from your line of sight. The boys had all gone to sleep just a little over an hour ago, leaving you to sleep on the couch, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't sleep.

With a exhausted huff you sit up abruptly causing the book on your chest to fall on the ground with a thud. Cursing silently, you reach down to pick it up. Just as you lift your head, you're met with the singer of the band emerging from the sleeping area. Freddie Mercury, you think his name was. 

"Can't sleep either darling?" he ask, taking a seat beside you. You shake your head, frowning. He let's out a small laugh, understanding your frustration. 

"You know, you look awfully familiar. Have we met somewhere before?" he's now looking directly at you, scanning your face for the answer. 

"I don't think so" You tell him, shifting your gaze away from him uncomfortably. 

A few minutes of silence falls between the both of you before Freddie shoots up from his position, now fully standing in front of you. 

"Wait, I remember now. You're the lady from the Ritz the other night! Right?" He whisper-screams with glee, pacing around a bit. Before you can respond he speaks again, "What are you doing on this bus with us darling? You should be planning your wedding!" 

You close your eyes tightly, beginning to feel the familiar sting of tears forming. At your silence Freddie pauses his pacing and glances at you. 

"Can we not talk about it?" is all you manage to say as you do your best to keep your breathing steady. You feel the couch dip once more as he resumes his space next to you. He says nothing. 

"I know I owe you lot an explanation for my sudden appearance on your tour but-" you cut yourself off, aggressively wiping the tears with the back of your hand. "I'm not ready to talk about it" you finally choke out. He hums in acknowledgement. 

"Alright lovie, it's alright. No pressure, you don't have to explain anything to us alright?" He says soothingly as he rubs your back in a circular motion.

You nod in appreciation.


	3. oh shit, is that blood?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 and you manage to fuck up immediately. Although, it isn't really your fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at me actually returning to updating this fic HAHAHA. Okay, in my defence, I've actually been updating it. Just not on AO3, on tumblr. So yeah. Oh also, I really hated the original plot so I changed all the chapters succeeding chapter 2. 
> 
> WARNING: blood, mentions of abuse (well the damage I guess), cursing 
> 
> wordcount: 1.7k words

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 9, 1976 - (𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨) 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐭 

An hour after your conversation Freddie heads back to bed, leaving you to your own thoughts. Which definitely was not ideal. There was too much to think of, so much you wanted to just ignore.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑌/𝑛? 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒.

Breathing in deeply you head towards the front. There was only one person still up, possibly he could answer where the hell all of you were headed. 

"Hi" you say softly as you peak through the curtains which separated the driver's area from the rest of the vehicle. The man's head whips towards you, slightly startled, before quickly training his eyes back on the road. 

"Uh... hey?" he's greeting comes out as more confused than welcoming. His eyes fleet back to you, his expression quite comical. It was as if he were making sure he wasn't hallucinating. 

"Mind if I sit up here with you?" you question him. He nods before looking at the road once more. You both seat silently for a few minutes, awkwardness filling the air. You clear your throat. 

"Uh, I was wondering actually if you could answer my question" you say. 

"I mean sure I guess, can't promise I've got the answer for that though" He replies

"Well I surely hope you can, you are driving us there after all." you tell him, this causes him to laugh

"Oh, if your question is where we're going, it's Detroit" he tells you, a smile still plastered on his face. You nod, murmuring out a short thanks, ready to head back. 

Before you can stand however, he speaks up. 

"If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you?" there's no ill-intent behind his voice, rather it's just filled with curiousity.

"Oh um... I'm not so sure yet. I think I'm the financer though" you tell him. Amused, he shakes his head and laughs

"Girlie, you get more and more interesting." He says, laughing heartily. This causes you to smile as well.

"Well, I try" you shrug but can't suppress the giggle that erupts from you.

"I'm Y/n by the way" you say, finally introducing yourself properly.

"Bill" he says nodding. 

••• -•- •• •--•

By the time you reach Detroit, you and Bill have shared a year's worth of stories. Each story shared wasn't really important, more of small snippets of each of your lives. Like the time you tripped and spilt the contents of your bag on the road, or the time Bill thought he ran over a cat, only for it to be an old sock. 

You nearly forget the fact that you had a giant gash on your stomach until Bill suddenly steps on the breaks as he parks, sending you flying forward and causing the seatbelt strap to push against it. 

"Oh shit, sorry" Bill apologizes quickly.

You hiss loudly, slouching over as you see black spots dance around your vision. At this, he looks over at you worriedly. 

"Hey, you okay?" his attention is divided between you and parking the bus. You wave one hand dismissively but you can feel the wound throb painfully.

𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑡. 𝐼𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑?

You feel your shirt begin to dampen, the crimson red liquid seeping through the piece of cloth. 

Switching the engine off, he turns towards you. His eyes quickly widening at the sight.

"Holy fuck. You're bleeding! Shit. Wait, uh-" he frantically unbuckles both of your seatbelts before careening you towards a van parked adjacent to the bus. He yanks the van door open, causing the person inside to groan and cover their eyes.

"Tom. Tom get up" Bill's voice getting increasingly agitated. Tom groans, rolling over to his side. 

"Bill it's too early, I'm not in the mood. Please let me rest." At this Bill huffs and shakes the sleeping man. 

"Bitch, get up. I'm not looking for morning sex. This girl's bleeding out, get up." This causes the sleeping figure to quickly shoot up, reaching one arm behind him in search for (what you can only assume to be) his medkit. 

"Fucking hell. Maybe say that first next time?" he mumbles grumpily. Bill helps you unto the van, hoisting you up. 

"Can you lift up your shirt?" Tom asks gently, holding out a dampened cloth. Deliriously you yank it up. 

You hear them both mutter curses under their breath as they see the damage. Neither ask questions as Tom aids you, but you're sure they've got ideas. 

After nearly 20 minutes of excruciating pain as Tom stitched up your gash, you hear the tour bus doors open once more. You're not sure who it is as your eyes are closed but you know that you're in perfect view of whoever steps out the bus; and soon enough you hear hasty footsteps approaching. 

"Bleeding Christ, what the hell happened to her?" You hear the unmistakable sound of Roger's raspy voice. You hear no response from the other two. 

You force your eyes open. This immediately catches Roger's attention.

"You alright there love?" He asks gently. 

Moving towards the exit, you dangle you legs out limply.

"I'm fine" you murmur out, attempting to stand up. This only results in you collapsing. Roger catches you before you hit the ground. 

"Mhm, sure seems like it" he comments. "C'mon, let's get you rested" 

Too weak to protest, you nod. You hear him say a quick thanks to Tom. 

Bill assists Roger in holding you up as you allow them to guide you back to the bus. Once inside you expect to be set on the couch, but they head directly to the back, laying you down on Roger's bed. Bill excuses himself, checking on you one last time before leaving. 

Almost immediately your eyes shut from exhaustion, but you remain awake for a while, listening to the hushed voices. 

They must've woken up from the commotion of Bill and Roger dragging you into the room as the first thing you hear from them is complains on Roger to keep it the 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 down, but the tone is quickly replaced by concern once their gaze lands on you

𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡, 𝐼'𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑜.

••• -•- •• •--•

Drowsily, you lift yourself up. Confused by your surroundings. 

"Oh hey! You're up." their bassist says, quickly rushing to your side holding a bottle of water out. You grab it gratefully, chugging down the contents. 

Once finished, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, turning towards the man sat on the bed across you.

"Thanks..." you begin, but trail off as you try to recall his name. He just chuckles, his eyes wrinkling.

"John. -or Deaky. Whichever you prefer" he says. You nod gratefully. 

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands. 

"Around 3:30pm. The rest just headed out to get food, they'll be back in a few" he explains as you look around at the empty beds. You nod.

Standing, he offers an outstretched hand for you to take. You stare up at him in confusion.

"Well I'm assuming you'd rather not spend all day trapped inside. We can wait for them outside. There's a table and a few chairs set up" Reluctantly you take his hand and he pulls you up.

Feeling a lot better, you follow after him, refusing his offer of helping you. 

"Do you know how to play any card games?" he asks as you both take a seat outside.

"A few? Poker, Rummy, Black Jack" You list. He nods and shuffles the deck. 

"Let's go rummy" he says as he distributes the cards.

It's silent for the first few rounds, a few side comments said, but not much more.

"He's an idiot" Deaky suddenly blurts out suddenly causing you to look at him in confusion.

"Who?" you ask him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Your fiancé" he says matter-of-factly. This catches you off guard. You stare at him, eyes wide.

"I- He- What do you- How'd you know?" you sputter out. He shrugs.

"You're the girl from the Ritz right?" 

𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?

You nod solemnly.

"So I'm guessing you all know about-" you gesture towards your stomach which was shielded by your bloody shirt. He nods. You sigh, thinking of how to explain it all properly. 

Deaky notices your distress and sets his cards down before turning all his attention on you.

"Don't worry about it. We won't ask. You don't have to tell us anything" Sincerity oozing from his voice. You give him a small, grateful smile. 

"It's ex fiancé, by the way" You clarify.

Just as you both start another round, the others arrive, holding bags of food and... shopping bags?

"Ah! Glad to see you up lovie" Freddie says, pulling you into a hug. You giggle and hug him back. 

"Here, we got you some pancakes and sausage." Brian says as he sets a small takeout box in front of you. "It may not be breakfast anymore, but pancakes are delicious at all hours of the day" Freddie comments , causing you to smile and shake your head at the singer's energy.

Roger approaches you, handing you a small shopping bag. You look towards it then up at him.

"What's this?" you ask him, confused. 

"Just thought you might want some change of clothes. You only packed an extra jacket and a few pants so I got you a few shirts." he says scratching the back of his neck. Before you can respond he quickly add, "Sorry for going through your bag, I was looking for something for you to change into a while back"

"It's fine. Thanks Roger" You beam at him, happily grabbing a shirt and excusing yourself to change inside the bus.

Once done, you emerge from the bus to find all four boys and Jim seated around the table, eating their meals. You take a seat next to Jim. 

"Sorry about not being able to help out this morning. I can-" you begin to explain but he holds his hand up to cut you off.

"Don't worry about it. You can start later." he says, smiling gently. You nod appreciatively before opening the takeaway box and digging in.


	4. Bacon Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick chit-chat with the drummer at a diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't super important to the overall plot, I just wanted to establish a more concrete relationship between the characters. 
> 
> WARNING: none. cursing?
> 
> wordcount: 1.2k words

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 17, 1976 - 𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐰

“You want some?” Bill asks, holding up a half eaten granola bar in front of you. 

“I’m good” declining his offer, watching as he messily chews. He shrugs, retracting his hand and taking another bite.

You look away, glancing back down at the papers spread out on the table. You sigh sadly. There was so much shit to sort through. When Jim said he needed help organizing the finances, he actually meant he needed someone to do it for him.

“You know you’re allowed to take breaks, right?” Roger says, popping into the room. This makes you jump slightly, dropping the pen you were previously holding.

“Jesus. Can you knock?” you huff out as you reach down to grab the pen. This only causes Roger to let out a chuckle. 

“Oh by the way, Crystal’s looking for you” Roger addresses Bill as he plops down on the couch behind you. 

“What for?” Bill asks, mouth still stuffed with food. 

“Not sure. Something about carrying equipment I think” Roger responds. Bill hums in response, taking the final bite of the granola bar and pushing his chair back. 

“See ya later Y/n” he says, already walking towards the door. You smile and wave goodbye before he slips out of the room, leaving you and Roger behind.

Returning your attention towards the paperwork, you resume working, falling back to routine. You nearly forget Roger was in the room with you, too engrossed in fixing the finances, until he starts throwing tiny paper balls at the back of your head. You try your best to ignore it, wanting to finish the task at hand, but it’s just too distracting.

“Yes Roger?” you ask exasperated at his attempts to gain your attention. You set down your pen and turn your head to face him. 

“I’m hungry” he whines, causing you to roll your eyes and turn back around.

“Roger, I’m your accountant, not your assistant. It's not my job to make sure you’re fed.” You hear the springs of the couch squeak as he sits up. 

“That’s not what I meant.” he groans, moving to stand next to you. You look up at him, brow raised as you silently ask what he meant.

“Well, you see, I’m hungry and there’s this diner down the street I’ve been meaning to go to before we leave Saginaw.” he says.

“Then go?” you say, slightly confused by his explanation.

“I mean I could do that, but I hate eating alone.” he says. 

Oh. Oh!

“What about the boys?” you ask, slightly apprehensive, not entirely sure if he was actually inviting you or was just expressing his thoughts. 

“John’s asleep, Brian’s busy being bitchy towards me, and Fred’s… actually I don’t even know where that man is” He says, listing them out. “Besides, I know you haven’t eaten since 9 this morning, it’s nearly 4pm. You’re gonna digest yourself if you don’t put anything in it soon. So what d'you say, wanna come?” 

You let out a light laugh at his last sentence.

“Actually scratch that. You’re coming, whether you like it or not Miss Y/n L/n” he says in mock-command, causing you to roll your eyes but smile.

“Alright, give me 2 minutes to fix these then we’ll go” you reply, already beginning to clean up. He nods, a huge grin plastered on his face. He leaves you to stand by the door, distracting himself with the movie playing on a television from the other room as he waits for you.

You make quick work in fixing everything and securing it. 

“Alright, let’s go”

Both of you exit the building, the noise of people moving around in preparation for tomorrow’s concert immediately disappearing. You pause, turning to face Roger.

“Lead the way drummer boy” you say, a light tease to your tone. He playfully rolls his eyes at this but takes the lead.

You walk quietly next to him, taking in your surroundings. The scenery was much different in contrast to New York. It was less chaotic. The streets weren’t littered with bustling men and women rushing to be everywhere and anywhere all at once. 

"You know, you've been with us for about a week now and I've yet to learn anything about you." Roger snapping you out of your thoughts. You face him for a brief moment before returning your gaze on your surroundings.

"Well, what do you want to know?" you ask, playing with the small strip of leather peeling from your purse.

"Anything, really. But I guess let's start simple. What's your favourite food?" You groan at his question.

"That is anything but simple. I have way too much to choose from" you complain, causing him to laugh.

"Well then, your top 3" he says.

••• -•- •• •--•

The aroma of the diner is intoxicating as you step in. A wave of nostalgia washes over you from the familiar smell. You try, but fail, to hide the smile that’s crept unto your face as you take a seat by the window.

“Well aren’t you awfully giddy?” Roger comments as he stares at you bouncing on the chair. You shrug but your smile widens. 

“How odd is it if I say you are currently my favourite person?” You suddenly blurt out, not thinking clearly from the overwhelming joy you were feeling.

“I mean, nothing I haven’t heard before” Roger shrugs jokingly, cheekily smiling. This causes you to roll your eyes, a rush of blood reddening your cheeks.

“Scratch that, I take it back you cocky bastard” You mumble, turning away to hide your flushed face. He lets out a hearty laugh, leaning back onto his chair.

“May I ask why?” he asks you once he stops laughing. 

“Well-” you stop, thinking about the answer you had before shaking your head. “Nevermind.” 

“Oh c’mon! You can’t just say something like that without explanation, the mystery will eat at me.” he whines, waving his hands around. You let out a light laugh, rolling your eyes playfully before resigning to give in to his request.

“It’s just uh… I guess I’ve missed this? I haven’t been to a diner in years.” You say softly, playing with the edge of the menu. “Although that's not exactly the reason. Back in New York, I lost myself. I was okay with the life I lived, but it was never fulfilling. I mean, all I ever had time for was work and...Simon?” You finally lift your gaze to make eye contact with him. He made no reaction, but it was clear to see he was listening intently.

"When I took off, I had no idea what the fuck I was actually doing. It's been so long since I took hold of the reins in my life. It felt more like Simon was leading me more than I was leading myself. You helped me a lot more than you know. Meeting you that night, although it may have been an accident, was the best thing that's ever happened to me." You smile brightly at him.

"So thank you." and as you stare across the table towards the golden haired man, you can't help but linger your gaze on the smile that he gives. A small action that holds the weight of a thousand words.


	5. Sleeping on the couch... wait no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where you see the title of the story written in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! I am so sorry for the slow update. I'm not abandoning the fic, I swear! Just dealing with really shit internet connection at the moment. So sorry! Hope you enjoy the read <3
> 
> (ps. Sorry. I admit this isn't my best chapter. I'll probs edit it soon though.)
> 
> WARNING: none. cursing? feeling out of place I guess. really shit writing lmao.

February 21, 1976 - Chicago

The days spent moving around with the boys were never dull. They were always doing something different, dragging you along with them. Most times it’d just be one of them and you going around. How? Well Freddie would drag you around on his countless shopping trips to various shops in different cities. During early mornings, you’d find yourself sitting somewhere with Brian by your side as you both had the habit of waking up fairly early. When the rest of the boys are busy bickering, you and Deaky would quietly slip out of the room and grab a bite to eat or just walk around. Rarely would the boys notice, often still bickering when you both rejoin the group. Finally, Roger. More often than not, you’d be by his side. Any given free time where the boys are busy doing something, and you aren’t talking to (your new found friends) Bill or Tom, you’d be with Roger. 

The amount of things you’ve done with the boys and the quick growing friendship with them, thoroughly perplexed you. Given how long they’ve known you and vice versa, it came as quite a shock to you how well you all got on. Of course that didn’t mean you didn’t have those moments of feeling out of place. 

Like now, for example.

Standing off to the side, you rubbed your arm awkwardly. You were invited by the boys to join them on their quick meet with a few other bigshots that were in the area. When you accepted their invitation, you knew that their attention would obviously not be towards you, however, you had not anticipated that it would be to this extent. The moment you had stepped into the restaurant they had reserved, the boys were briskly swept off to converse with… well with everyone but you, apparently. Not only were you feeling out of place verbally, but in outfit as well. Why you hadn’t thought about it is beyond you. All the women were wearing dresses, while you stood there with jeans, sneakers, and a simple tee. 

You felt like crawling out of your skin. This was a huge mistake. Why had you accepted their invitation in the first place?

Fuck it. You were leaving this party... or whatever the hell this was.

Taking a deep breath you take purposive strides towards the front door. 

You take a deep breath in, the afternoon wind breezing past you as you finally exit the asphyxiating event. Never had the open air ever felt better than now. 

Beginning to move, you take in your surroundings, thinking of what to put on your agenda for the succeeding hours. 

Deciding on just walking around and taking in the city's beauty, you turn down the street, not once glancing back to the dreadful venue.

••• -•- •• •--•

Seeing the hotel come into view, you search for the parked tour bus outside, easily finding it-what with its massive size. As you approach, you fail to notice the blond mop of hair heading straight towards you, too distracted by the scenery around you.

"Are you insane?!" Roger seethes as he attaches his palms to your shoulders. You let out a small yelp as he catches you off guard.

You begin to open your mouth to reply to him, only to be cut off. 

"We've nearly called the police to come searching for you!" he continues.

You hang your head as you're suddenly overcome with a feeling of guilt for your actions. He peels his hands off your shoulders.

"Sorry...I didn't mean for any of you to worry"

"Like bloody hell you didn't! What did you think disappearing would do?" His voice was still raised as he scolded you. You wordlessly follow behind him as he begins to head back towards the bus. 

"I just can't believe you'd do something so impulsive." he mutters angrily under his breath.

Stopping at the payphone located next to the bus, Roger dials the others to let them know you were with him and no longer missing. 

As soon as he sets the phone back on the hook, he takes a deep breath before looking towards you. It takes a couple minutes before he actually speaks.

"Why'd you leave in the first place anyway?" He was no longer angry, just exhausted. His tone no longer raised and instead disappointed. 

"I-" you look away, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment as you rethink your reason. "I know it's a foolish reason, but at the moment I just really felt out of place...I mean look at what I'm wearing" you gesture towards your outfit.

Roger's once knitted eyebrows, loosens as realization dawns on him that no one had told you about even dressing up. Not even him.

"Fuck. Y/n I am so sorry. It had completely slipped my mind to tell you about the dresscode" he's quick to apologize. You shrug halfheartedly. 

"It's fine I guess, I know that there's been a lot on your mind, as well as the boys. I just think it was a mistake that I had even gone at all today. I appreciate the invite, I really do, I just don't think it was my scene to begin with" you reason, kicking a pebble on the ground, avoiding his gaze. 

He sighs deeply. 

"I wish you had told me you felt uncomfortable earlier instead of just up and leaving. You gave us all the scare when we had realized you had disappeared" he says. 

"I didn't want to burden any of you with my inability to cope. It just seemed easier to leave and then meet up back here"

Just as he's about to negate your statement, a shrill voice is heard followed by a pair of arms wrapping around you. 

"Oh darling, there you are!" Freddie says urgently as he hugs you. 

"Hi Fred" you say, hugging him back. Finally letting go of you, you come face-to-face with the remaining band members. 

"I'm sorry for running off" you mumble softly, rubbing your arm in an attempt to calm your nerves.

Shaking his head in both amusement and annoyance, Brian pulls you into a quick hug. Followed by John who just gives you that look.

"Please never do that again. You're no magician darling, no need to perform vanishing acts on us" Freddie says. You nod before pulling away, eyes still trained on the ground beneath you. 

There's a terse silence that overtakes, and you feel Roger itching to speak up.

He steps forward, obviously planning on bringing up what you had previously told him, but before he could utter a word you wordlessly step away and retreat into the bus. 

It was an odd experience. Going from feeling absolutely outcasted to terribly cared for. You knew that they didn't mean to make you feel that way at the event, but regardless, they still did. 

••• -•- •• •--•

You tossed and turned as you tried to get comfortable on the old couch of the bus. It was definitely not fit for providing a goodnight's rest. Miami and the boys were obviously properly situated in their own rooms in the lavish hotel you were parked outside. Although they had tried to book a room for you, the hotel rooms were full, so you were left with no other option (well in your opinion anyway) but to sleep on the bus. 

Frustrated, you grab the blanket and pillow and move to the floor, which surprisingly felt better to sleep on than that rutty old couch. 

Just as you begin to drift off, you hear someone call your name in a whisper outside.

Groaning ruefully, you roll over and try to shut out the sound. You were far too exhausted to stand up anyway. 

It resumes for about 2 minutes before it finally stops and you let out a sigh of relief. That relief is short lived, however, as someone opens the door to the bus and steps in. 

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?" you recognize the unmistakable voice of Roger. 

"What the fuck do you want Roger?" You groan into the pillow as you bury your head into it.

"I came to check up on you-which I'm glad I did. Are you seriously sleeping on the floor when there are literally beds at the back?" He questions you.

"They're not mine. I don't want to intrude into your personal spaces" you mumble sleepily. 

"Y/n-" he begins but you cut him off.

"It's fine Roger, really. I don't want to be an inconvenience to any of you" you say, still not lifting your head to look at him.

You hear him let out a frustrated sigh before hearing the spring of the couch compress under Roger. 

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" He asks, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm well aware, thanks." You reply, causing a laugh to escape Roger's lips. 

"Well if you so thoroughly insist on being stubborn, I should warn you that I'm a stubborn man myself" He states.

"Look Rog, thank you for the offer but I'm alright here" as soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear the springs of the couch release their tension as Roger stands up. Then you're lifted off the ground as Roger carries you towards the back.

"WHAT THE-" you let out a small oof as Roger tosses you onto his designated bunker. 

Recollecting yourself, you sit up and finally turn to him with blazing eyes. He returns your gaze, but looks at you innocently, as if he hadn't just picked you up and transferred you. Just as quickly, his playful gaze turns stern.

"It's no longer a choice. You will be sleeping here for the following days, okay Y/n? There's no need to sleep on the floor" you nod at his…. command? Request?

"Fine. Now can you leave me be? I wanna sleep and you interrupted it just as it came" you complain. He rolls his eyes but begins towards the exit. Pausing before he's completely out he turns towards you.

"I came to say sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn't reverse earlier's events, but I just wanted you to know. Also, you're not a burden, you're our friend, and we care about you deeply. It's not an inconvenience to help you out...it's our pleasure, okay?" he says. You shoot him a smile.

"Thanks Roger." You say as he smiles back softly.

"Well. Goodnight Y/n" 

"Night Rog" you respond as you shoot him a soft smile.

With that, he shuts the curtain which divides the bunkers from the rest of the cabin. Leaving you to your-

"I almost forgot" he pops his head back in before tossing your pillow and blanket at you roughly. The pillow hits your chest harshly (but not painfully), knocking the wind out of you. 

"Night Y/n!" He calls out as he giggles from his childish antics, exiting the bus before you could retaliate to his actions. 

"Fucking prick" you mumble underneath you breath as you settle into the bed, finally closing your eyes.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑘.


	6. one call away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phone calls, shitty feelings, and a caring blonde drummer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Welcome to the domain of fluffy bullshit by yours truly. Hope you enjoy the read! 
> 
> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠?, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐦?
> 
> 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟖𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟐, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨

𝑅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔

You chew nervously on your nail as you wait for the ringing to stop. It would be the first time you've attempted to reach out to anyone back in New York since you've left, and the feeling of dread loomed over you like a storm cloud ready to strike thunder.

"Come on. Pick up" you whisper quietly, anxiously waiting for them to pick up.

"...Sorry, the person you're calling is currently unavailable, please leave a message after the beep or dial again…"  
Your face falls as you realize she probably won't be picking up any time soon. Taking a few shaky breaths in, you quickly compose yourself to greet her anyway.

"Hey mom, it's me. Happy birthday! Sorry I can't be there to celebrate it with you, I just…" you trail off, looking up towards the sky as the words get stuck in your throat. Shaking your head, you think better of what you were to say, choosing instead to end the call. "I love you mom, bye."

Setting the phone back on the hook you give yourself a few minutes to compose yourself, willing the unshed tears to remain that way- unshed.

Your mom was always so regal, a woman of status and poise. She's mentioned more than once that you weren't enough. Sure that hurt each time, however, (although she was a difficult woman) she was still your mother and you love her dearly.

••• -•- •• •--•

You didn't mean to, but throughout the day you found yourself absentmindedly staring off and replaying your call. The boys had noticed your peculiar attitude, however, instead of pestering you about it they decided it must've just been one of those days and let you be.

"Hey, wanna go get ice cream?" Roger suddenly asks as he goes to stand next to you. This snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink at him, taking a few seconds to fully process his question before a small smile appears on your face and you nod, quickly turning around to grab your purse. Your mood, although still somewhat glum, drastically changed to a somewhat jolly one.

As you walk out the door ahead of him, Roger can't help but smile at the small skip in your step as you happily think about the cold, sugary treat.

••• -•- •• •--•

"So what's on your mind, love?" Roger asks, midway to licking his ice cream. You shrug, too busy munching away at your own, and too worried about the words you may speak.

He hums in disappointment but doesn't push further.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope to at least distract you from it, m'lady" he says before kissing the back of your hand as the knights do. You roll your eyes as you giggle, pulling your fingers back, but you can't hide the blush that blooms on your face.

"Ever the flirt, aren't you Rog?" to this, he only shrugs and shoots you a mischievous smile. As the giggles and light teasing die down, you're surrounded by a calming silence.

Growing the courage, you finally speak in a small voice.

"I guess I'm just scared of being even more of a failure than I already am" and if it wasn't so quiet around you, Roger would've missed the words that left your lips.

"What do you mean?" He asks, thoroughly confused. How could you ever be a disappointment to anyone? You were the literal epitome of perfection (to him most especially). If you hadn't shown up, he wasn't so sure that Queen would've made it this far in the tour. To be quite frank, he was sure they would have spent all the money not even a week after New York.

"I mean, everything I've accomplished so far, I've managed to fuck up. My stable job back in New York, all those years thrown down the drain. My friends, what friends? All my savings, left with my ex-fiancé. Oh yah, and the man I was so sure was the one proposes to me, and I panic, and I run away. Everything. All of it. Gone. I've been on this earth for 24 years and I've got nothing to show for it." You hadn't realized that you had started crying at some point of your speech until Roger's thumb grazes over your cheeks, wiping the salty hot tears away.

Cupping your face into the palms of his hands, he gently tilts your face to look at him.

"You listen to me Y/n, you are not a failure okay? A little confused, sure, but you are not a failure. You may not see it, but you are the reason Queen hasn't been subjected to massive debt yet." This causes a small laugh to emit from you, making Roger's lips twitch upwards, slightly. "And, by the way, you've managed to keep us all from killing each other, which I must say is a great accomplishment!"

No longer able to hold back, you burst into fits of laughter, the tears gradually stopping. You pull away from his grasp to blow your nose, to keep your snot from flying all over the place.

As you walk back from the trash bins, Roger can't help the smile that graces his face from the knowledge that your own was caused by him.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟒, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨

The sound of the audience muffles out everything else other than the boys as they cheer loudly. It was the last day in Chicago, and the crowd was just as hyped up as the one the day before. Queen was truly something else.

Just as they begin to transition into the following song, Miami returns to stand beside you.

"Oh hey, who called? Was it the label?" You half-yelled. He shakes his head.

"It was actually for you. A call from some Edith L/n. Your mom I think" At this, your back straightens and you immediately walk out towards the tour bus, attempting to reach the phone quickly. Miami hot on your trail.

"What did she say? How'd she even find you?" You ask frantically.

"Hell if I know. All I know is she did" he says as you punch in the numbers to her home phone.

Ring ring

And although you knew she had already reached out to Jim, you had expected for her to not pick up, so when she did you were taken by surprise.

"Hello? Y/n, is this you darling?" her tone was not how you remembered or expected it to be. It wasn't condescending, it didn't hold an ounce of malice or ill-intent, instead it was caring and sounded hopeful.

"Hi mom." you hear a sniffle as soon as those words are out. This time, the tears weren't coming from you.

"Darling, it really is you! How are you? Are you okay? I've missed you, terribly so." it was so odd hearing her so...not stoic.

"I'm alright mom." You respond, feeling tears brimming your eyes once more.

"When I heard from Simon that you had gone missing, I had prayed that you were okay. And I am so glad you are dear. Oh Simon will be so delighted to know you've been found! He's been worrying nonstop since you've gone." At the mention of his name, you cringe. Instead of expressing your distaste for him, however, you choose to bite your tongue knowing that your mom had always favored Simon… often over you.

You hum in response.

"How'd you know who to call?" You finally ask her. There's a few minutes of silence before she replies.

"A few tabloids have come out regarding that band you're with… I didn't believe it at first, my daughter running off to be with a rock band?" she scoffs, her aura of disapproval palpable. Almost immediately, her calm and caring demeanor reverts back to her cold and stoic one.

“It wasn’t like that mom-” You try and explain why you had just run off, only to be cut off by her audible huff of annoyance. You quickly shut your mouth.

“I’ll see you next week, alright?” her question stated as a command than an actual question.

“Next week?” you repeat in confusion.

“Yes. I’ve looked up the band’s route and you’ll be in Milwaukee, correct?” her voice sharp.

“Yes but-” you begin only to be cut-off once more.

“Alright then. I’ve already booked a flight, I’ll see you then.” at her response, you feel the blood drain from your face, uncertain of how the future meeting would turn out. Without waiting for you to reply, the line goes dead.


End file.
